


Unwinding

by allourheroes



Category: Thai Actor RPF, offgun
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Explicit Sexual Content, Feelings, Fluff and Smut, Jealousy, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, No mpreg, Relationship Reveal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27871938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allourheroes/pseuds/allourheroes
Summary: Sometimes change happens by accident. Sometimes change is inevitable.What's the use in putting off the future one more day?[An OffGun A/B/O AU that barely feels like an AU sometimes...]
Relationships: Off Jumpol Adulkittiporn/Gun Atthaphan Phunsawat, OffGun - Relationship
Comments: 18
Kudos: 63





	1. Finally

**Author's Note:**

> This is the OffGun a/b/o I was originally writing, although I had toyed with the idea here of alpha!Gun with omega pheromones (like in my other fic), this is just straight up alpha!Off/omega!Gun because I'm a simple human with simple needs.
> 
> This is a WIP, divided into 5000 word sections. ~~At worst, it'll be two parts (and the second part is nearly finished). It's _possible_ it'll be four parts, but most likely it'll be three (~15k total).~~ [12/22/20 UPDATE] It'll be at least four parts...but probably five. I really hope anyone who reads it enjoys it. 💚
> 
> >SIDENOTE: Y'all see that _Not Me_ trailer??? 👀 We okay, babiis?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Biology helps?

It’s hard not to be drawn in by the little omega. It’s like Gun has some sort of magnetism, pulling in alphas, betas, and even other omegas, causing them to flurry around him and exist in whatever manner he deems appropriate. He’s touchy, he’s flirty, he’s _cute_.

Of course this leads to a certain amount of jealousy, of discord, but those around him would protect him with everything in their power, even if he is not theirs.

It’s not surprising with the level of talent and charisma he has that he’s gone into acting. Some would warn an omega away from a career in which so many eyes were on them and had he an alpha beforehand, perhaps that alpha would’ve warned him away, too, possessive and protective as many still are.

Gun is very close to Oab for a while, the beta he works with for a film, to the point that something might come of it, but it’s not long after that he joins GMM and an alpha enters his life who is different from all the others.

This alpha isn’t immediately smitten with him, calling him a naughty kid, calling him annoying. It doesn’t stop Gun from clinging to him every opportunity he gets.

And they are paired for their upcoming series and Gun can’t help attaching himself even more, especially after they kiss. It’s like a spark is ignited in him, Off’s soul kindling a fire the wide-eyed omega stokes on his own. They start seeing each other more and more and at first Gun understands. He really does. They’re just playing it up for the cameras...except not. Playing it up whenever there aren’t cameras. Whenever there _aren’t_ witnesses. He’s not allowed to do too much but...

He loves to be close to everyone and with the way this new alpha loves to push him away?

Well, Gun can’t help but grip tighter, grip until that hard exterior cracks beneath his grip. Off already smells like his and the people around them know and, given the little omega’s interest, they push, they want to see him happy, they want him to get what he wants.

Off is kind to him, if teasing. He doesn’t give in at first, but Gun slowly erodes his walls layer by layer. He’s vehement that Gun is close to him but not _like that_ , even if everyone else sees otherwise.

These words can’t stop Gun from trying harder.

Sometimes though...Gun wants it to stop. He doesn’t want to feel this way. It’s too much and it hurts and if...if anything were to happen to Off, he doesn’t know what he’d do. With everything else he’s lost, Off has become his guiding light.

“Papii,” Gun says, and maybe it’s the omega in him that adds a sweetness to the whine, hoping the video call conveys his sincerity. “I miss you.”

“Miss me?” Off replies through the screen. “You saw me yesterday.”

Gun just pouts and Off smiles at him.

“What does nong want?”

“To see Papii.”

Off looks like he might try to play it away, to tease Gun. But something has changed in him lately. “Mm. Do you want to come over?”

The words are like magic to Gun’s ears. “Yes,” he agrees immediately. “Can I?”

“Mm.” Again, the non-committal acquiescence. When Gun continues to pout, Off scolds, “Ai’Gun, come over if you’re going to sulk at me like that.”

When Gun arrives at Off’s place, they order in food. Gun had considered making something, but there’s nothing in Off’s kitchen that he might use for such a task. He tells Off that he’ll be better prepared next time and Off laughs as if he doesn’t believe him, making Gun all the more eager to prove him wrong. He’s cooked for Off before, but there’s something more intimate about cooking here, where everything feels like Off, like they’re in their own little world.

They sit on the couch and Gun creeps in closer and closer as they watch a movie. And then he’s in Off’s lap.

It’s supposed to be fun—maybe even funny—as he buries his face in Off’s neck and inhales that scent that grounds him. He presses kiss after kiss to the skin he can reach and when Off juts his head back, attempting freedom, Gun pulls back and smiles. And Off’s eyes flicker to his lips.

It’s just for fun.

It’s just for fun as he presses their lips together, arms retreating from Off’s neck to cup his face.

It’s just for fun, right?

Off’s hands slide down his back and there’s that alpha-omega draw between them but it’s more than that. Off has met hundreds of omegas and Gun has met tens of alphas and Gun has, in the line of work, kissed more than one...but…

But…

Gun moans into Off’s mouth and Off’s hands, even through the fabric, they brand every inch of skin they touch. Off’s fingers, however, _clench_ and Gun laughs, pulling back to whack Off’s chest.

The tension is palpable but it eases slightly and they realize where they are, what’s happened.

Gun turns. He doesn’t leave Off’s lap but tucks himself more into Off’s side, trying to return his attention to the movie. He catches on to whatever he can, forces a laugh, points to the screen. “Papii, that’s embarrassing.” He hides his face in Off’s neck and chest.

“Mn,” Off acknowledges, going along with it. His hand stays very purposely loose at his side, for fear of what he might do otherwise.

Gun doesn’t leave Off’s lap for the remainder of the evening and it’s Gun who, after napping on Off’s lap half the time anyway, yawns and tells Off that he’s going home. They have separate schedules tomorrow and although it isn’t until the afternoon, Gun should go back and get rested.

It doesn’t mean they won’t see each other. Off isn’t shooting tomorrow, so Gun is already plotting to ask Tay to dinner in the hopes of getting Off, too. Tay knows how it works.

Although Gun loves spending time with Tay, Tay is well-aware when Gun has ulterior motives.

He heads home pretending everything is normal, as if there hadn’t been that moment…

Gun flushes, shy, even now when he’s alone. They’ve kissed many times, but never had it been like that. Never had he been so close to letting it go too far.

Gun has trouble sleeping that night. He’d been warm and comfortable on Off’s lap, but of course he had. Gun is used to sleeping wherever he happens to be, he’s been working too long as an actor to not find his own little space to nap whenever possible.

So why is it so difficult now?

Really, Gun knows why. He’d been comfortable with Off, but now that he’s thinking _about_ Off, it’s different. He wants him. He’s done his best to possess him in whatever way he can, but this alpha is like most alphas, wants to pursue rather than be pursued…

And yet...Off lets Gun do whatever he wants. He lets Gun kiss him, cling to him, touch him, lead him…

Maybe it’s nothing though. Gun has always had an intensity, whether it’s his omega pheromones, his charisma, or a combination of the two, people tend to do as he wants.

What Gun wants is Off and it’s been a struggle. Then again, things that are difficult to obtain are inherently valuable.

It has nothing to do with Off being an alpha. That’s just a nice bonus.

Gun eventually falls into an uneasy slumber, still thinking about Off’s hands trailing down his back.

All through the meeting the next day, Gun is feeling somewhat unwell, overly warm. He doesn’t cancel though. He’s not that kind of person. Whatever he’s feeling will surely go away and the fans are generally respectful of him and his space.

He almost forgets that he’d made plans with Tay until Tay texts him to let him know he’s on the way. He changes and gets ready, glad that he’s not driving again. The feverishness only increases his fatigue as the evening goes on and he rests his head against the window in Tay’s car.

“Nong Gun,” Tay says, shakes his shoulder. “Gun.”

Gun lifts his head and realizes they’re parked. Traffic had been pretty bad so he must’ve fallen asleep.

Gun rubs at his bleary eyes and then Tay is talking to someone on the phone. “Peng, can you come meet us?” He hangs up a moment later so Off either didn’t argue with the request or flat out refused. It could really go either way nowadays.

A moment later, Off is opening Gun’s door and Gun is staring up at him in confusion. “What’s wrong?” Off asks, seeming annoyed, but there’s concern, and he’s gentle as he offers his hand to Gun.

Gun shakes his head but lets Off pull him up and out of the car. “I’m fine,” Gun is saying, even as he leans into Off.

“You’re burning up,” Off remarks. He pauses. Gun isn’t looking at him but he’s looking at Gun.

Tay does his best to get Off’s attention without Gun noticing and, somehow, it kind of works. “What is it?” Tay is mouthing.

Off shoots him a glare and shakes his head, but his touch to Gun’s arm, to his shoulder, is exceedingly tender. He looks down at Gun. “Are you okay to be out, nong?”

Gun nods, but Off doesn’t look too sure.

“Should I take him home?” Tay suggests, but there’s a secret amusement beneath it all, knowing that something is going on that his best friend won’t or perhaps _can’t_ explain. Although it had started out for show, Tay knows genuine feelings had developed between the two. Feelings he was quite pleased to foster, and to tease them both about whenever the chance arose.

Off’s scowl that greets him only makes Tay smile—to himself, ducking his face to avoid detention. Luckily Off is too busy worrying about Gun to bother scolding him for his obvious set up.

They end up having dinner but Gun eats very little, preferring to lean his head on Off’s shoulder, half-dozing some more. Still burning up.

Off waves Tay away when he tries, once again, to take Gun home. “I can take him.” He grabs Gun by the hand again of his own volition. “E’Tay can’t tell what’s wrong, can he?” He’s mumbling under his breath as he walks Gun to the car and Gun is confused, but trying to process, even as Off literally walks him to his side and opens the door for him. Even on the occasions when Off dotes on him, it is not to this degree.

Only after they are enclosed in the car and Off is tense, eyes darting to Gun every few moments, and actually reaching out to touch Gun’s hand, arm, or leg—whatever is in reach, if ever-so-briefly—does Gun say, “Papii, what’s going on? Why are you being so sweet?”

Off pulls over to the side of the road, as if something has only just occurred to him. “Gun, do you want to come over to my place?”

Confusion rivals anticipation. Gun should really go home and wait up for his sister, but...but he wants to say yes so badly. It seems like the right thing to do. He nods. “Mn.” He swallows, hopes to hide whatever emotion he might otherwise let slip.

Off lets out a long exhale, but Gun can’t tell if it’s relief—and of what?—or disappointment or something else. He just knows that his heart feels like it could burst out of his chest and he does his best to school his features, to keep an appearance of calm.

They go up to Off’s condo and Arm must hear the sound of their return as he pops open his door. Arm smiles knowingly. “Nong is over?”

Off’s eyes aren’t right. “Yeah.” His gaze dodges away from Arm to Gun and back again. “Khun Arm,” he says, far too amiable, “don’t open the door, alright?”

Taken aback, Arm looks as if he doesn’t know whether to make a joke or to keep quiet and, being that the third in their teasing trio isn’t available for input, he chooses to smile, giving Gun a nod of acknowledgement, before retreating back into his own place.

Gun shifts, awkward, but doesn’t know whether he should be pleased or frightened. If he’s frightened, it’s only because he wants...whatever this is. He wants it so badly that he wants to hide for fear of it not happening. And for fear of it happening. It’s a lot and he had thought, for so long, that it never would. He doesn’t know what Arm thinks or what Arm might say, but he can’t worry about that now.

Off closes the door after Gun and they sit down on his couch like usual, but Off is nervous, as if he wants to say something, and Gun is so _warm_ and he’s so attuned to the energy Off is exuding. Beneath the nerves, something innately _alpha_ thrums.

It feels like an answer.

“Papii, what…?” Gun is scooting closer before he realizes it but Off puts a hand to Gun’s thigh to keep him in place, to draw his attention.

Taking a moment to work through the words caught in his throat, the _something_ in him that wants to rise up and crawl out and— Off takes another deep breath. “Gun, what are you…” He closes his eyes and he doesn’t know if it makes it better or worse. “Have you ever had a heat before?”

Gun is somewhat stunned by the question. “What?” His first instinct is to smack Off’s chest but when his hand moves to repeat the action Off grabs it instead.

“Ai’Gun.” Off opens his eyes slowly, peeking at Gun, before turning his whole face away, trying to regain his composure.

“Papii, why would you ask me that? That’s— That’s embarrassing.” But some small part of him must admit that at least one part of it makes sense. The fever had come out of nowhere and the way Off kept gently touching him in the car, how it’d made him feel… He always likes being around Off, likes Off touching him. Quieter, smaller, staring at his own lap, Off’s hand secure on his thigh making him feel a certain way, he says, “Gun has never had a heat.”

Off is watching him again, nodding. “And right now...do you think this is…?”

“ _Papii_!” Gun squeals, but his heart is in his throat. If this is what Off thinks, why did he take Gun back here? Gun carefully raises his eyes to meet Off’s. “I don’t know.”

Off nods once more. He doesn’t speak again, just pries his hand from Gun’s leg and puts his hands in his lap. He stares straight ahead, very purposely not looking at Gun or touching Gun.

“Is Papii mad at Gun?” Gun asks, pouting. He shifts fully to face Off.

Off’s eyes flick over to Gun and away again. He doesn’t answer.

Gun folds his legs under his body, props himself up on his knees on the couch and both hands wrap around Off’s arm, shaking him, pleading for attention. “Papii…”

Off shrugs out of Gun’s grip and Gun’s pout turns even more desperate. He’s struggling to keep his eyes focused and he leans heavily against the back of the couch.

“Papii, Gun is sorry.”

Off allows himself to turn. “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s not your fault.” He lets Gun’s fallen hands grasp at his. “Gun, you’re making this so hard for me.”

Confused, Gun takes advantage only of twining his fingers through Off’s before Off has the chance to pull away, instead dragging Off’s hands into his own lap. He plays with Off’s hands while Off seems stumped on how to continue. “Papii,” he murmurs, leaning forward, intending to crash his face into Off’s chest, but Off ducks his head, manipulating their hands in such a way to make room and—

And Off is kissing him. First. On purpose.

“Mph!” Gun is shocked, but he melts at the touch of Off’s lips on his own and, really, he’s hot enough to melt anyway. It feels better and worse now.

Off’s kiss starts out easy, maybe awkward, the press of lips to lips, but then Off deepens the kiss, acts like he wants to do something with his hands but they’re still helplessly entangled in Gun’s, can only be used to shift until he— Ah! There, his hands twist and they’re palm-to-palm and he presses Gun back just enough to be over him, to let Gun let slip a gasp and let him in.

Really, Gun is panting against Off’s mouth, ready to fall onto his back and let Off do whatever he wants, but Off—unfortunately—stops. Gun whines, fingers flexing in Off’s grip. “Papii, why?”

Breath mingling, hot, tickling.

Gun arches up to kiss Off again and Off obliges, letting Gun’s tongue slide over his lip and gain entrance, pushes Gun back even further until he’s rightfully on top of him. The couch isn’t big enough for this, but Gun is small. It gives the slightest advantage as Gun hooks his legs around Off’s. Gun can feel himself hard in the crook of Off’s hip and thigh and, with a tingle that runs up his spine, hooks into the omega part of his brain gleefully, he can feel how hard Off is between them, too.

It’s not the first time he’s felt Off hard against him. With all the photoshoots, filming, events, the number of times they’ve slept beside each other, of _course_ he has. He has delighted in every instance where he can make Off react, make Off uncomfortable in the way Off makes him uncomfortable, too.

But they’re alone now and—

And Gun is groaning, legs about to rise to Off’s waist, to let him know just what an alpha could do to an omega if he so desired.

Their hands are still intertwined. Off awkwardly pushes back. “Ai’Gun,” he scolds, but he’s breathless. “I don’t think we’ve thought this through. You don’t normally—” He tries to blow up a puff of air to get his hair out of his eyes. It doesn’t really work. But he has a point and he can’t let himself get distracted. “It’s not just you. I don’t know if this is about us. This is… It’s instinct.” He gets drawn down into another kiss. Another. Lingering kisses that yearn to be so much more. He manages to stop himself again. He presses his forehead to Gun’s. “Do you feel it, too? That something is...different?”

“Different how, Papii?” Gun has wanted Off for so, so long and now it’s so close… 

“You’re in heat.” Off says it like it’s going to stop them but they both know it’s too late.

“You’re the one who got on top of me,” Gun argues, as if that’s the question.

Off rolls his eyes, tucks his nose into Gun’s jawline. “When I helped you get out of the car, I knew.”

“What?!”

“I’ve never been around an omega in heat before,” Off defends. “But you were so hot and you felt so good and you—” He tilts his head where it rests against Gun’s skin. “You smelled so good. And it wasn’t just how I usually— It was alpha instinct. That was telling me to have you. That you wanted it. Needed it.”

“Needed?” Gun catches. “Needed what?” But his position makes it quite obvious what he needs.

Off manages to extricate himself, hands and all. “We shouldn’t.”

Gun has no idea where it comes from but the heat from before turns to searing pain and he’s crying before he can think of why.

“Nong?”

Gun’s eyes are scrunched shut and he’s trying not to make noise but it had just seemed like a fever earlier, and, really, as much as he loves having Off care for him, he doesn’t want to be a nuisance forever. He just has to bear through.

“Gun? Gun!” Off puts a hand to Gun’s forehead and knows immediately that something is wrong. Even more so than before, this is _bad_.

“Papii, it hurts,” Gun says, because he can’t help it anymore.

“Fuck.” Off can tell though. He can feel it in himself, the need rising, telling him he must act _now_ or unimaginable consequences will follow. The real consequences, however, will come if he goes through with it, while the effects of letting this all pass will be temporary. They could write off their near-encounter as weakness brought on by biology.

They could wait it out.

But Gun whimpers and Off cups Gun’s cheek in his hand, watches as Gun leans into the touch, and he’s flooded with hormones, with their chemistry working together to work against their sanity.

He wanted to make it to the bed but instead they’ve only made it to the floor, wrestling free of their clothes as best they can. Gun is under Off and his arms wrap around Off’s neck, pulling him down against his fevered skin and Off feels like he looms so large above him, makes him almost scared to make a move because Gun is _small_ and _vulnerable_ —or at least that’s how he feels in the moment. His rational brain isn’t reminding him of all the times Gun has asserted just how much he is _not_ some helpless little omega, no matter how much he loves to play it up when he feels like it.

Off kisses Gun’s lips, trails down his jaw to his neck, his collarbone. His hands are flat on the floor, still trying to give him some hope of getting out of this, but what real hope does he have? Their clothes are scattered and Gun is moaning under him. There’s only one way this is going and it isn’t towards chastity and respectful distance.

“Papii…” He looks up with a glazed, dazed gaze and Off is _powerless_.

“Gun, baby, do you want me to put it in?”

“Nn, please, Papii, Gun wants you to put it in.” He wriggles his hips. Acting childish seems wrong and right. Gun only knows that being cute is effective and he’s relying heavily on that cuteness now as the rest of his brain ceases to function. He hooks a leg over Off’s hip, offering himself, arching up for contact.

Off’s breathing comes out shaky and uneven. His hands leave the safety of the floor to position himself, touch on Gun. He takes Gun in hand first, stroking him, but Gun whines and Off shifts, lines himself up. He pushes the head of his cock into Gun and it’s like Gun’s body sucks him in, eager to be filled. Off has never slept with a man before, an omega before, never had any desire to be alpha to an omega, but the way they fit together is something to be marveled at. Or, at least, it would be if there was anything he could think about besides fucking Gun—and ensuring Gun’s pleasure, easing any discomfort, being attentive, as he does so. 

Gun latches his mouth onto Off’s throat, leaving wet, messy kisses, biting at him. Off’s hand is still between them, wanting to make this as good as he can despite the overwhelming urge from the alpha part of him to _take_ , that all an omega needs is to _be_ taken.

They move together, Gun’s arms still locked around Off’s neck as he tries to catch his breath, can’t, biting hard into Off’s throat, his shoulder, hips jerking, noises he can’t control slipping out, but he can’t keep hold forever, falling back, curling in, a staccato mantra of, “Papii, Papii, please,” as Off fucks him.

“Gun, ai’Gun, Gun, baby,” Off is saying, with no other thoughts in his head. Make Gun feel good. Take, take, _take_. No. _Gun_.

Gun, barely coherent, presses his hands to Off’s cheeks, holds eye contact. “Papii is Gun’s, na?”

Off nods, says only, “Yours,” before he devours Gun’s mouth, hips working, hands working, Gun’s hands gripping into his back as they both lose focus of everything but them, but this.

And all at once they tip over the edge, Gun’s body tensing up, making a mess between them, and then he’s milking Off’s cock for everything it’s worth. Their gazes locked, holding each other, bodies and spirits aligned.

Off is still inside him and Gun stares up at him. He hadn’t expected things to turn out this way—he’d also somewhat expected, whenever he’d allowed himself the fantasy, that he would be riding Off rather than writhing under him. He hadn’t thought it’d be under what felt like—real or not—dire circumstances.

He’s… He’s feeling a lot better than he had been.

Off looks at him, seems to be going through the same mental gymnastics of whether or not he should be freaking out.

But then. Then Off laughs. It’s easier than crying, and he can hide his fear.

Really though...what is there to be afraid of? Wasn’t this inevitable? Wasn’t this why they’d both ended up single-yet-not?

Something has been there between them for longer than Off ever would have admitted. He had always brushed away the remarks and the ideas, made as if it was all just in good fun, but it’s certainly too late now. It’s been too late for a long time now, but they’d been fooling themselves in never crossing the line.

It had always been almost _destined_.

It’s like Gun said, Papii had always been his.

“You okay?”

Gun nods, suddenly feeling shy, despite it very much _not_ being the time. “Uh.”

They extricate themselves carefully, Gun wincing. Off can’t help himself. “I always warned you it was big.”

Gun rolls his eyes, but he can feel himself flush. The teasing, though, that’s something he can handle. “Papii, you can’t talk like that.”

“Why not?” He’s making that face—the one that makes Gun break every time. The adoring eyes, the sweet smile, tilting his head in just such a way…

“I’ll kiss you,” Gun threatens, as if it’s still a threat.

“Kiss me?” Off raises an eyebrow, something mischievous takes over. “Only a kiss?”

“ _Papii_ ,” Gun warns, but really he’s shy. Off has always had that power over him, and it has nothing to do with Off being an alpha and everything to do with Off being _Off_. He pushes at Off’s chest, Off’s _bare_ chest, and...and maybe that fever isn’t quite gone or maybe it’s just that he’s been waiting and wanting for so long that all the pent up energy won’t let him stop, but he forces Off’s back against the legs of the sofa and kisses him, straddles him on the floor.

“Oho.” Off grins. “Are we going again? Can’t get enough?”

“Papii, be quiet,” Gun tells him, no nonsense, and Off closes his mouth, eyes happy crescents. They’re both sweaty, sticky messes, but they’re hard again, too. And Gun _wants_. From his position on Off’s lap, he reaches back and grabs Off’s cock. Off wasn’t lying about it being something special so it wasn’t _just_ male alpha swagger, but Gun isn’t shy about lining it up now, about sinking down onto him.

Gun adjusts to him, to the new position, and then he does what he’s always wanted to do: rides Papii until Off is breathless and begging. Until they come at the same time again. Which is ridiculous but probably has something to do with that alpha-omega bond, with his heat, with how synched they have become over the last four years.

“Papii,” Gun says finally, after they’ve showered and changed and have _actually_ found their way into Off’s bed. It’s not Gun’s first time in Off’s bed, but it’s different now— now that they’ve accepted what they are. Luckily, he feels much better than he had. A sense of calm in place of the fevered need and discomfort. “Papii likes Gun?”

Off is holding himself back. “Mm.” He peers carefully at Gun, whose head is in his chest, fingers toying with the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Papii loves Gun na?”

Off can’t hold back the grin at Gun even asking such a question. He squeezes Gun and shakes him from side to side. “I love you so much!” He’s laughing and Gun is whining at him to stop but he can hear Gun’s smile, too.

Suddenly, Gun looks at Off. “Could P’Arm hear us?”

Off shrugs. “I told him not to listen.”

It’s Gun’s turn to shake Off. “ _Papiiii_ , that’s so embarrassing.” He shoves his face back into Off’s side, gripping the shirt now.

“Oh, you’re embarrassed now?” Off teases. “Who kisses me every day in front of everyone?”

Gun pouts. Off can’t see it but he knows it’s happening. “That’s different. That’s not...sexual.” He _hmphs_. “Gun just likes Papii’s scent. It’s comforting.”

Even though it’s not how the world sees it, Off already knows how true it is, and that’s why it’s something he could never take away from Gun, even if it had once felt strange and obscene. With no actual intention of making Gun feel bad, he strokes his hand down Gun’s back. “I know.”

Gun listens to Off’s heartbeat, taking comfort in the sound, the smell, the touch surrounding him. His own heart flutters, but as the seconds pass, everything becomes better instead of worse. He humphs again against Off’s chest. “Is this...okay?” He has to ask. There’s no way he can let it go without saying it.

“Hm?” Off is sleepy, but he looks at Gun, lifting his head up from the pillow.

“Is it okay? Really?” Gun is pouting as he speaks, wanting Off to pay more attention to him. “Papii?” He pats at Off’s chest when Off looks like he’s falling asleep. His pout turns into more of a frown and when Off peeks open an eye, Off smiles at him, earning himself further whacks to the chest for faking slumber.

“It’s okay,” Off tells him, pulling him in close. “More than okay.”

“Really?” Gun asks again, but his heart and mind are already settling and, if he’s honest, the omega part of him is still craving his alpha’s confirmation.

Off presses a kiss to Gun’s forehead. “Mh.” He peppers Gun’s hair and face with more kisses. “Definitely. Are you okay?”

Gun furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

Off laughs, raising an eyebrow in response.

A hot flush creeps up Gun’s cheeks and he shoves his face into Off’s side and ribs. He hesitates, nods, but he’s not really sure. It’s not like he’s ever had a heat before and he’s always heard the intensity can vary. For some it comes all at once, lasts for days. For others, it comes in waves. Most omegas experience heats.

Gun had sort of thought he was one of the ones who would never experience a heat, already older than most. But biology and chemistry can change. Some omegas only experience heats when triggered. Sometimes even a beta can go into heat given the right exposures…

It’s kind of funny that it only just happened considering how long he’s spent with this particular alpha, but it seems things have changed.

 _Finally_.


	2. Pleased

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring the '91 Sexy Kids

Gun wakes up in Off’s bed sore and a bit confused until he remembers what had happened last night. He turns to look at Off who is very much still asleep and smiles. He _could_ let Off sleep, but… Gun leans over Off and kisses him on the forehead.

Again, so familiar and yet the context has now deviated.

Off grunts and tries to cover his face, but Gun is persistent. At first it seems like it’s just his usual bout of playfulness, but then Off blinks his eyes open and their gazes meet.

_Oh_.

It’s not gone.

Gun shifts, suddenly uncomfortable in a different way. The soreness pushed to the back of his mind as they look at each other. Off reaches a hand up and cups Gun’s cheek. “Bii...” he murmurs.

They’d showered last night, so maybe just...if they…

Off’s hand trails down, slips under Gun’s t-shirt to settle on his side, to feel the intense warmth beginning to emanate from him. He hums, still coming to, and yet very aware at the same time. It’s as if the alpha in him responds instinctually to his omega’s growing needs, forcing him into wakefulness. Gun is leaning over him, half on top of him, and his hips dip down, finding friction against Off’s thigh. He makes a little noise and Off’s hands wander, but his eyes don’t.

He watches the miniscule changes in Gun’s expression as he moves, the way he bites his bottom lip. Gun’s hands clutch at Off’s shirt, one leg between Off’s.

Off flips them over, hand sliding into Gun’s shorts and grabbing his cock. He glances between them, but then focuses once more on Gun’s face. He hadn’t had the opportunity last night to just watch him like this, and it’s an opportunity to learn more and more about this facet of Gun, to listen to the little hitches in Gun’s breath, to watch his lips part and pant, as he takes him apart with his hands. Gun grips onto his arms, his back, squirming, bucking.

“Good?” he asks softly, corners of his mouth quirking up, pleased at the way Gun nods, the way Gun stares back. Only when Gun is coming, spilling over his hand, does he kiss him—slowly, breathlessly, Gun arching up for more.

They stay there, foreheads pressed together, trying to find themselves. The connection is even stronger now between them and although Gun’s heat subsides ever-so-slightly, he is not completely sated. Off could probably do this again, or suck him, or—

Gun shifts under him, spreading his legs to make room for Off between them. They’re still fully clothed, if messy now, and Off is achingly hard. Gun wraps his arms around Off’s neck, drawing him in for a kiss, another. Another and another. The firm press of soft lips giving way to wet, open mouths, lost in each other, bodies seeking more.

“Ai’Gun—” Off huffs out a breath through his nose, changes his words. “Baby, what do you want? You have to tell me.”

The way Gun’s gaze is heavy, lips swollen, as he lies under Off is enough to make Off curse and duck his head, forcing himself to wait.

But Gun is so _warm_ , and his legs are hooked over Off’s, body still lifting up, still searching.

“Papii.” Gun swallows, lets his hands do the talking as he starts to push Off’s shorts down his hips, struggling. He whines. “Papii, na.”

“What?” Off asks, pretending he doesn’t know.

“I want you.”

The simple phrase is all it takes to have Off kissing him again, the two of them combining their efforts to awkwardly kick aside their pants. Or, rather, Off’s shorts get tossed aside and Gun’s are only pushed down to his thighs in their desperation. Gun’s body is lax, pliant and amenable to the way Off moves him, turning him onto his hands and knees. They both groan as Off presses inside, Gun’s legs are trapped together, preventing him from sprawling all the way down.

Off drapes himself over Gun’s back, getting as deep as he can, fucking into Gun like Gun is _his_ because it’s true.

And he is Gun’s.

One hand leans on the bed for support while the other finds Gun’s, Gun turns his head and Off kisses him, catches all the little noises and echoes them back as they chase completion. Off thinks to do more, but Gun slots their fingers together, squeezing Off’s hand as he shoves his hips back to meet Off’s, and, ah—

Gun’s body tenses up around him and Off rocks his hips a couple more times, falling over the edge, coming deep inside.

They collapse together onto their sides, bodies still linked, hands still clasped.

“Papii, I’m tired,” Gun mumbles.

Off nods, nose to the nape of Gun’s neck. “ _Uh_ ,” he agrees. He knows they should separate, get up, wash the sheets and themselves, but it feels good to be here in this moment, pressed close.

They fall back to sleep for a while—until the buzzing of a phone wakes them. And then the ringing of another phone.

Luckily, when Off manages to fumble the still-ringing phone into silence, it’s Tay. Eyes still struggling to open, he says, “P’Tayyy,” into Gun’s phone.

There’s a second’s hesitation before Tay says, “Peng?”

“Krabbb,” Off replies, still drawing out his sounds, extricating himself from Gun. Gun makes a little noise of discomfort, but he doesn’t turn. They both will definitely need showers and his bed very much needs fresh sheets.

“Peng, did you just meet up with N’Gun?”

Off blinks, staring at Gun. At Gun who seems so very natural in his bed, in his space. “I just woke up,” he says instead.

He can practically hear Tay losing it even though all Tay says is, “You have his phone,” testing Off’s response.

“Mm,” Off agrees. “He’s here. Still sleeping.”

“Awake,” Gun mumbles, but Off is certain his eyes are still closed.

“Uh,” Off grunts, if only to mollify. “Did you call both of us?”

“We’re supposed to practice for the fanmeet,” Tay tells him, but then Tay regains his focus. “Did Nong Gun sleep over?”

“Mh,” Off agrees once again. He props himself up ever-so-slightly. “I don’t know if we’ll make it for practice. It’ll depend on Ai’Gun. Might need another day.”

“Is Gun okay? Is he sick?” Tay asks in panic.

Off hesitates. “Errr.” He doesn’t know how much he should tell Tay. Although Tay will surely be happy their relationship has progressed, being one of their most vocal shippers and closest friends, it’s the circumstances surrounding their get-together he’s not so certain he should share.

“He wasn’t looking good last night. Do you want me to pick you up? Have someone pick you up? I can pick up medicine. My grandma always said—”

“I’m taking care of him,” Off says.

“Tell P’Tay to bring food,” Gun mumbles, shifting but not opening his eyes. In fact, he puts the back of his hand over his face to keep out the light.

Off sets the phone aside, muffling the receiver. “You want Tay to know?”

He’s met with a long whine of indecision before Gun eventually says, “Okay.”

“‘Okay’?” Off asks in confirmation.

“Uhhhh,” Gun affirms, finally winking one eye open to look at Off. “Hungry.”

Off gives him another look, but follows instruction. “Ai’Gun says bring food.”

By the time Tay arrives, Off and Gun have showered and gotten as clean as they can despite an...incident in the process. 

Stripping the sheets and cleaning up a little doesn’t exactly make what they were doing unnoticeable though.

Tay opens the door and immediately pretends to walk back out. Even though the occupants of the room are decent and their close proximity isn’t anything new, there’s definitely an energy to the room.

An energy that says the tension may have been resolved but it hasn’t gone away completely.

“Nong, Peng,” Tay starts slowly, very obviously assessing the two of them. Specifically, he addresses Gun, “You look better.” He gets a look at Off’s neck and clears his throat. Gun had bitten him pretty hard the night before, had a tendency to go for the neck in general, so when Off catches Tay’s line of sight, his hand goes up automatically, shrugging his shirt over but quickly realizing there’s no way it’ll hide it.

It’s probably for the best they didn’t even try to show up today.

To Tay’s comment—and not his gaze—Gun nods, “Yeah. I feel a lot better.”

It’s a leading comment and they all know it, but Tay still has to say it. “Peng said you needed another day.”

Off and Gun look at each other, Off asking with his eyes whether Gun wants him to answer or if Gun wants to explain. Or if Gun _doesn’t_ want him to explain.

It leaves Tay staring at them while they stare at each other, silently communicating.

“I feel okay right now,” Gun concedes, wording his response carefully. “But I might not later.”

Tay went from looking like he might know what was going on to being completely baffled, except that he looks between Off and Gun, back to Off accusingly like it’ll be Off’s fault if Gun doesn’t feel well later.

Off noticeably takes offense. “Why are you blaming me?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Tay says, but it’s obvious how very much he’d been thinking it.

“It’s not Papii’s fault, it’s my fault,” Gun corrects, before the two can turn it into some strange argument that he really doesn’t want right now. “Papii is taking care of Gun.”

This time, Tay’s expression turns serious. Gun hadn’t been well the night before and if N’Gun’s possible future problems are not due to Off, it means that something is actually wrong with Gun and Tay is rightfully worried. Gun isn’t of the hardiest stock when it comes to illness, but to be okay...and not okay? It brings a lot of questions to mind. “What’s going on?”

Gun freezes, unable to bring himself to say it, he stares into the distance, then darts his eyes to Off’s.

“Let’s just say it’s something that only affects—”

“ _Papii_ ,” Gun interrupts, before Off can get the last word out, he swats at Off’s arm—the closest part of Off he can reach given the space they’d attempted to interject while anticipating Tay’s arrival—and his face turns red, scrunching up in embarrassment.

It’s...unbearably cute. And given Tay Tawan as their only witness, not enough to keep Off from teasing him. “You want me to tell him or no?” Off asks. “Oh, you want to tell him?” At the desperate shaking of Gun’s head, Off smiles. He puts a placating hand on top of Gun’s where Gun’s hand now rests atop his forearm, having finished hitting him, and says, looking at Tay directly. “It only affects omegas.”

Gun squeals, wishing to hide himself away, but instead, Off scoots closer. “ _Papii_ ,” Gun whines again lower, but this time he ducks his head towards Off, finding solace in Off’s presence even if Off had been the one to utter so mortifying a phrase to begin with. Because Gun couldn’t bring himself to say it. No matter all the things he could say and do that might bring others discomfort in his stead, telling P’Tay that he’s in heat is just a step too far. The implications too much.

Not that it isn’t overtly obvious what he and Off have been up to anyway.

Tay’s probably one of the few people who knew for sure it hadn’t been happening before, that this is a brand new development in their extremely close relationship that had never actually crossed the line. It takes him a moment to catch on to Off’s meaning, distracted somewhat by Gun’s mortification, but then his eyes widen and his mouth gapes. Gun’s face is still hidden so he half-mouths half-whispers behind a cupped hand, “Nong Gun is in heat?!”

Gun groans, the situation both better and worse now that Tay has caught on.

“Yes,” Off affirms, then smacks the useless coverage that is Tay’s hand and Tay leans back, bowing with his hands palm to palm in apology.

Tay is laughing though. He suddenly perks up. “Oh, N’Gun asked for food, right?” He pulls up a bag and hands it over.

Off takes one quick peek and raises an eyebrow. “Why is it all mixed up?”

Tay shrugs. “I dropped it.”

“Thank you, P’Tay,” Gun says anyway, and the three settle in to eat.

Gun goes to clean up the trash when they’re done and winces, leading Tay and Off’s attention to immediately swivel in his direction. “I’m fine,” he assures, even though his face is still screwed up in discomfort. “Just sore.”

Tay’s raised eyebrows are directed at Off and the second Gun has taken two steps further away. “Why is N’Gun sore, Off Jumpol?”

Off leans away, smirking. “Why are you asking if you already know?”

“Peng, I can’t believe you and N’Gun finally—” He gestures instead of saying it, as if the two of them _aren’t_ almost thirty. “I thought you were worried about what would happen if your ship actually became real.”

Off shrugs. “Yeah.” He smiles at Tay, the kind of smile that he uses when he talks about Gun nowadays. Tay has come to recognize it well. “But then I realized it already was.”

“ _Ohhh_ ,” Tay gushes. “You can really talk like that?”

Resisting the notion of embarrassment, Off rolls his eyes. “Yeah. So what?”

“Peng and Nong Gun are in love,” Tay howls, far too pleased.

“Haven’t you been saying that for the past two years?”

“Yes,” Tay agrees, “but you kept denying it!” He wags his finger at Off. “You said it couldn’t happen!”

“When?”

“So many times!”

Off gives him a look. “But when was the last time?” Tay’s expression is one of confusion, probably trying to remember when in recent memory Off had actually said that. “See? I got you there.”

Tay scowls at his best friend but Off shows no sign of remorse and after a glare, Tay sobers. “I’m serious, Jumpol. You know I’m captain of your ship, I want you two to be happy more than anyone.” He pauses, glances away like he’s really thinking instead of jabbing at his friend some more. “Or, at least, I want Nong Gun to be happy.”

“Ai’Tay,” Off warns.

Tay laughs. “But is there anything you’re afraid of now that you two are actually together?” His brows furrow. “You’re not just sleeping with him, right?”

“Really?”

Tay waves away the thought. “Right, right. I was just overthinking things.”

To his actual question, Off can only shrug like he had initially. “I’m always worried about him. It’s the same.”

Tay grins, calls out, “Atthaphan, Jumpol confirmed it!” A bit more to himself, far too pleased, he adds, “OffGun is real!”

Off rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “OffGun is real.”

Gun returns to the room and...actually, what had taken him so long? How was his timing this good? Off glances between Gun and Tay and guesses that Gun had been eavesdropping. It’s fine. It’s not like he had anything to hide. He also guesses that Tay _knew_ Gun was eavesdropping. He won’t ask questions. It’s better to keep as fodder for later accusations.

Tay pats his lap but Off nabs Gun by the hem of his shirt and pulls him over, away from Tay, instead.

“Jealous?” Tay asks.

“Of _you?_ ” He shakes his head. “Never.”

Everyone knows it’s a lie and Gun is half-embarrassed, given what Tay knows, to tumble into Papii’s lap, but whether it’s just the omega in him or not, he’s quite pleased at the possessiveness, at Off making it known even just to P’Tay what they really are to each other.

“Er,” Tay starts. “Should I tell them you need a couple of days?”

Off shrugs, looks at Gun, but Gun only looks back at him.

“When an alpha and omega bond, usually they want some time to complete their bond.” Tay glances at Off and Gun, hands folded together in his lap, then looks away, clearing his throat. “That’s what I’ve heard, Peng.” He tries to go for normalcy and fails spectacularly in Tay Tawan fashion. “Or.” He attempts a smile. “What should I tell them?”

Off nudges Gun, who seems at a loss. “We can tell them whatever you want, bii.”

“‘Bii,’” Tay whispers to himself, but firmly shuts his mouth at the glare that Off shoots him.

“What do Papii and P’Tay think?” Gun asks, deferring to his seniors as if they know better. He’s just at a loss as to what he ought to say. Even though he’s the only omega, he’d come to think that he’d never have to call out for a heat. It was something protected under any general contract these days, but Gun had no idea how to actually _tell_ anyone that’s why he needed out without losing all face.

“A heat is protected under the law, it doesn’t even count as sick days,” Tay is saying, as if Gun doesn’t already know.

“Ai’Gun doesn’t want to say he’s in heat,” Off says, before Tay can continue.

Tay stops, trying to figure out how he can continue, what he can say if his suggestion has already been rejected.

Off hums for a moment. “What if I tell P’Godji?” He corrects his wording, addressing Gun as reasonably as he can. “Do you want me to be the one who tells P’Godji— Mae Godji? I can tell Mae Godji that you aren’t well. Mae Godji and P’Kwang. Okay?”

“Papii, they’ll know.”

Tay shifts uncomfortably. He’s looking anywhere but at Off and Gun.

“Ai’Peng,” Off says. “Stop it.”

Frustrated Tay shoots back, “How am I supposed to stop? You invited me here and you’re both—” He gestures wildly at the two of them. “You’ve brought me here to witness your lewd secrets! What am I supposed to do?”

Off’s expression shifts to one of discomfort. His urge to fight back for the sake of fighting Tay is dulled. “Calm down, Peng.”

“Sorry, P’Tay.”

Tay takes a moment to inhale deeply, exhale. The fire so quick to ignite starts to leave his eyes. He hangs out until he has to leave for work, warning them that he’s no good at keeping secrets.

Off and Gun pass the day in a mostly normal fashion, but as it wears on, it’s obvious Gun isn’t quite as over it as he’d been trying to convince Off, and himself.

“Mmm,” Gun hums. “It’s not so bad this time.” He kisses Off softly, eases himself down as Off cradles him, as they rock their bodies together slowly. They take the time now to explore without rushing. After years spent close, they know a lot about each other, including some of their more intimate tastes, but being able to act on this, to test it out, to experiment… It’s different. It has its stops and starts, complaints of discomfort, Off gets scolded for accidentally tickling Gun before they settle into something more pleasant once again.

It’s hot without being _heated_ , without as much pressure from their biologies telling them that they _must_. It isn’t without the urging of a heat, the whisper of need that remains, but there is a calm, as well. Slow hands moving across skin, the rise and fall of hips with breath. Lingering kisses.

When they reach completion—and, oh, how synched they are—they spend a long moment with foreheads pressed together, coming back to themselves having already come together.

Off sighs. “Ai’Gun.”

Barely conscious, Gun groans in response.

“I can’t believe it took us this long,” he says.

“Papii’s fault,” Gun murmurs, nose tucked into Off’s neck, letting himself drown in the scent and feeling of the person he loved the most, comforted him the most, took care of him the most.

With a little chuckle, Off holds Gun closer, if possible. “Yeah,” he agrees. “But…” And he strokes a hand through Gun’s hair. “I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time.” He presses a kiss to Gun’s ear. “Thank you for being patient.”

“Mm,” Gun agrees, very purposefully nonchalant, as if he thinks Off doesn’t know how much these words affect him just because Off can’t see his face. He can feel the shift in Off’s expression, hear all too clearly the pleased little huff he lets out at Gun’s reaction.

They drift in and out of consciousness for a little while before Off wakes to Gun hitting his chest. “Shower,” he says, eyelids half-closed, and the two of them stumble their way to the bathroom.

Long moments are spent just leaning on each other under the hot water before any actual washing is done.

“Gun. Ai’Gun,” Off murmurs, increasing in urgency. “Come on. Let’s finish up and go back to bed.”

Gun nods, which Off feels rather than sees, Gun tucked into his side as he is. They scrub each other lazily before slipping on shorts and t-shirts, tumbling back towards bed.

There’s that realization, however, once they get there, that they’re in bed together, that they showered together, that they’ve been sleeping together and _sleeping together_.

Gun crawls up from Off’s chest and presses a kiss to his lips. “Sweet dreams, Papii.”

There’s a nervousness where there had been only the desire for slumber, both of them shifting, settling. Gun thinks about asking Off whether he’s scared of what might happen next, but he can’t bring himself to do it. This inner turmoil is overridden by the warmth of Off’s body, by the link between them.

Off runs his fingers up and down Gun’s spine, into his hair, pulls him in close. “I’ve always been yours,” he whispers, but Gun is falling asleep again, unsure whether the words are reality or fantasy.

The next morning, if it can be called as such when they wake up closer to noon, they’re sprawled in Off’s bed, covers kicked askew.

A bit worse for wear, Gun doesn’t feel the symptoms of his heat today—what little he’d been able to pinpoint in the first place. He feels more worn out, more sore, more like all he wants to do is sleep, but not like he needs…

Gun glances over at Off. Alright. So maybe he still kind of _wants_ , but his body is telling him to slow down and he’s willing to listen this time.

Despite his physical exhaustion, he’s happy. So freaking happy.

When his mind wanders to what’s going on outside of their little bubble, anxiety makes itself known, but there’s still something so wonderful about starting something new. Or… Not new. That part is a little confusing.

But he feels anchored in body, mind, and spirit. Off had always made him feel safe, comfortable, but it’s gone even deeper.

The omega in him which had always felt pleased around this particular alpha is finally satisfied, to claim and be claimed.

“What are you thinking?”

Gun shakes his head, gaze finding Off’s then looking away. “Nothing.”

“Gun, I know you were thinking something. I can practically _feel_ it.” Off takes the initiative to thread his fingers through Gun’s.

It reminds Gun in a different way that this is new. The Off Jumpol he had met in 2015 would be having conniptions over the man he had become.

Off gives his hand a squeeze and Gun is brought back to the moment.

“It feels different,” Gun says. “Being like this.”

Off quirks a brow at him. “A little.”

Gun pouts, deep in thought. Off is right and also wrong. He can’t explain it. But maybe that’s because he had fallen for Off so long ago and Off had told him there was no chance, and that had always been the rock in his shoe, keeping him from letting himself run free. He frowns harder, sits up a bit more properly. “More than a little, P’Off.”

“‘P’Off’?” Off echoes.

Gun sits up even straighter, lifting their conjoined hands. “Yes. P’Off wouldn’t let me hold his hand.”

Off uses his free hand to push himself up, too. “ _Ohhh_.” He sighs, seeing where Gun is going. “You’re right.” He raises an eyebrow, staring sweetly at the omega who had once been an annoying kid he was forced to spend time with. “You’re right. P’Off hates holding hands.” He leans his cheek on Gun’s shoulder, looking up at him. “Am I still P’Off?”

Gun stares down and feels his heart thudding in his chest.

Off makes his expression as pleading as it can be, nuzzling Gun’s shoulder now.

And, as suspected, Gun can’t handle it. “Papii!” he whines, turning his face away, unable to deal with this level of cuteness from Off.

“Krab?” Off replies, adding on a level of politeness, making himself seem even sweeter.

Gun pushes at Off’s shoulder, pushing him away, and gets up from the bed. His legs wobble and he has to put a hand to the wall to keep himself upright, but he doesn’t give Off the satisfaction of looking back. Instead he heads to the kitchen to attempt breakfast with what limited supplies he might find, Off’s laughter trailing behind.

And it’s not the heat that has them fucking in the kitchen—Gun’s legs wrapped around Off’s waist, leaning against the counter for leverage—but the novelty.

The novelty of a new relationship, but one that had been building for so long it had been itching beneath their skin since the very beginning.

There’s a knock to the door when they’re still nowhere near decent and Off debates answering or just waiting it out, but at Arm’s obnoxious, “ _Khun Off, krabbb_ ,” he just rolls his eyes and he shouts for Arm to wait.

Off and Gun toss on clothes and Gun feels the flush of embarrassment before the door even opens. Tay hadn’t been around for any of the actual action, but it’s quite possible Arm heard some of it, being so close and...possibly curious. Especially when Off had made it sound so mysterious.

Gun himself would’ve been tempted to peek or eavesdrop, the urge to be nosy over what had so obviously been a juicy secret almost impossible to resist. He just really, really hopes that Arm hadn’t.

“Is it hot in here?” Arm says, the moment the door opens, his smirk telling them exactly what his words imply. He leans against the doorframe, raising a teasing brow. Off shoots him a glare but it’s half-hearted and Arm continues, “I’d ask you out to eat, but it seems you’ve been feasting.”

Breaking, Off can’t help smirking back, but then he schools his expression back into some semblance of anger and waves an annoyed hand at Arm. “I told you to mind your own business.”

Arm’s smile softens into a different sort of mischief. “Tay told me.”

“I’m going to kill Tay.” Off waves a hand to allow Arm inside.

Arm nods at N’Gun. “Nong Gun,” he greets.

Gun nods, balling his fists in the sleeves of the comfy sweatshirt he’s borrowed. “P’Arm.”

Arm takes a moment to assess Gun, looking him up and down until Off shoves at his shoulder and Arm rubs at the spot. “Your fan club is freaking out.”

Usually glued to their phones, Off and Gun have been a bit distracted since dinner with Tay the day before last. Off has glanced at it, sent off a few texts to explain away their absence within the company, but he hadn’t actually checked his other notifications. “Why?” he asks. “What’s up?”

“Tay posted a video of everyone at dinner a couple of days ago and the two of you have been silent since. Nong was looking unwell.” Arm puts on the sweet affectation, “Your fans are so worried, P’Off.”

“Ah, yeah.” Off sighs. With a glance through his notifications he can see all the babiis worrying that something might be wrong with Gun, telling Off that he should check on Gun if he hasn’t already. A lot of babiis hope their dual absence means that Off is taking care of Gun and...it’s true. But he can’t exactly say why.

He scrolls through his photos to find an innocuous yet stylish photo that Singto had taken last time they’d filmed together, crediting Singto in the caption on Instagram. Everyone assumes he must be with Singto but it keeps the fans busy for the moment.

A second later he sees a tweet notification pop for @AtthaphanP: _Sorry I haven’t been around. I wasn’t feeling well. See you soon #babii 👶💚_ ”

“There,” he says, showing Arm.

A bunch of notifications pop up about Off and Gun posting at the same time, and Gun gets many well wishes, but the fans are no longer losing it in a bad way and that’s for the best.

“Did you need anything?” Off asks Arm, but he realizes soon that Arm is filming them.

Arm flips the screen towards Off, letting Off see the clip he’s taken. It’s hard to see too much. He zooms in on Off staring at his phone, zooms out, flicks to Gun, also on his phone, and then it ends. It’s quick enough—and blurry enough—that you can’t tell too much except that it’s Off and Gun and their phones.

Off knows Arm is waiting for him to give the okay and he juts his chin up in acquiescence, receiving an alert a moment later that Arm has tagged him and, upon clicking, Gun.

It’s no big deal but his notifications are immediately flooded as he reposts the story on Instagram.

It doesn’t take long before #OffGun is trending.

“Did you need anything?” Off asks Arm.

Shaking his head, Arm smiles. “No. I just wanted to butt in and see how the lovers were doing.”

Even Gun shoots Arm a glare at that, but he melts as Arm comes in to give him a hug and he’s laughing as Arm shakes and squeezes him.

“Oy!” Off warns. He’s mostly joking, but there is a small part of him—a small, alpha part of him—that doesn’t like seeing another alpha all over his omega, especially so soon after a heat. He’s used to jealousy, but the twist in him this time edges into something more predatory and unfamiliar. He does his best to swallow it down, but it prickles in his fingers and toes, brings his old temper back beneath the surface. He raises his eyebrows at Arm as Arm has half-pulled away from Gun.

He sidles closer to Gun, like he can’t help it.

“Alright, alright. Calm down. That’s enough.” Off gives Arm a tap on one of the hands embracing Nong Gun.

Getting some idea of Off’s mood, Arm disentangles himself from Gun and Gun’s eyes dart to Off before he smiles reassuringly at Arm. Gun can tell Off’s moods fairly easily. Of course he’ll second guess himself, but he can see when Off is actually angry at someone versus when he’s just playing around. Right now...it’s harder to tell. It’s part of why, once Arm has removed himself, Gun’s fingers tug ever-so-gently on Off’s sleeve, giving him that little bit of _presence_ in the moment.

Arm’s gaze goes to Gun’s hand, to each of their faces, and he plasters on a more placating smile. “I’m happy for you,” he says. “You know I’ve shipped it since the beginning. OffGun forever,” he sing-songs, and takes a few steps back. He leaves each with a bowing “wai” of respect and leaves.

Once he’s out, Gun’s pleading eyes find Off’s. Although he’s slightly pleased at Off’s protectiveness, he’s a touchy person, and now that they are...well, whatever they are—which is no longer _just_ “close friends,” that’s for sure—he wants to make sure they’re going to be okay. Off has always been somewhat jealous, somewhat possessive, but Gun has definitely heard of alphas who start to become more and more controlling once they’ve claimed an omega. He knows Off is too rational for that, but…

“Papii, are you okay?” He tugs on Off’s sleeve until Off is the one in his lap. “Are you mad at P’Arm?” he asks, nosing at Off’s back and shoulder. He knows Tay likes to bring a rise out of Off, but Tay is Off’s best friend, just a tier above Arm in closeness. Tay is also a beta, which Off’s alpha brain—the few times it’s emerged outside of this heat—may not react to quite so strongly.

Off shifts, shrugs, shakes his head. “It’s nothing.” He flops back against Gun obnoxiously and grins when Gun squeals as he struggles to get them into a better position. He sits up a bit, eases some of his weight onto the couch rather than Gun, although he doesn’t actually free him.

Gun isn’t going to let Off distract him from asking the question. Although _romantic feelings_ had been one of those things that had been hard for them to seriously discuss—lighthearted “I love you” sentiments quite commonplace—he had always talked it through with Off if they had any issues, at least for the past few years. “Pa _piiii_ ,” Gun prompts. “There’s something.”

With a little huff of a chuckle, Off moves to take in Gun’s pleading pout.

“Tell me.”

Off can’t resist him. “It’s not that I’m mad at Arm,” he elaborates. “It’s that…” Off sighs. “Arm is an alpha, right? I’ve never really cared much about being an alpha and I’ve never been with an omega before. I’ve never...bonded like this before. Where we’re so close that when I don’t see you, it feels like I’m missing part of me. And now that we’re… What are we?”

“Lovers?” Gun supplies and Off’s expression turns playful, bashful.

“ _Uiiiii_.” He smirks. “ _Lovers_. Are you my _lover_ , Nong Gun, naaa?”

Gun’s eyes narrow. “Not if you keep that up.”

“Yes, tee-rak,” Off agrees ever-so-sweetly.

Pointing a finger at Off’s face, Gun scolds, “And you’re avoiding the question!”

Off nods, feigning obedience, clearing his throat. “Mm. There’s just something in me that wants to keep you all to myself.”

Gun blushes, looking away. “You sound like that fanfiction we read together.”

“I said it then, they know us pretty well.” He cocks an eyebrow at Gun. “ _My little omega_ ,” he teases.

Gun pushes Off from his lap and leaves, much as he had that morning.

“Shy?” Off calls. “Tee-rak, na krabbb!”

“Stop it!” Gun calls back.

Off smiles to himself, impossibly pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you might guess, there will be at least a third chapter if not a fourth...
> 
> Comments keep me warm through the winter. 💚


	3. Ache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to work, some time at Gun's, and an added layer of jealousy.

They pass the rest of the day mostly just hanging out at Off’s condo. Gun checks in with his family, endures his sister giving him the fake third degree for disappearing after he’s gotten on her case so many times for staying out. When she confirms he’s been with P’Off the whole time, her tone sounds more and more suspicious, but Gun knows that Pim loves Off. At least as far as she knows that her brother has been very obviously in love with P’Off and, recently, Off has taken very good care of her brother. She had been a bit too young to be overly worried or aware until Off had already started to change.

She promises she’s taking good care of their grandmother and Gun tells her that he should be home the next day. He doesn’t say it, but Pim, far too knowing, asks if P’Off will be coming over, too.

Gun is glad she can’t see how red his face is, even as she says, “ _Tell Papii I say hi._ ”

When they awaken the next morning, Off and Gun both groan and grumble a while.

They had promised to go into work today and although it’s just practice for the fanmeet, they still dread it.

Mostly because they know everyone is going to grill and tease them even more than they usually do...but also because they’re both _sore_. There’s that honeymoon period when you first start sleeping with someone where you want them all the time...that plus years of tension and a heat had left rather a lingering discomfort now that they were faced with the idea of leaving Off’s condo.

It doesn’t help that they’re not exactly in the best of shape. Eagerness and adrenaline and biological urges had taken them far.

Gun has always had more energy, and it’s not just from being the younger of the two.

It’s why as their lazing about turns to kissing turns to a desire for more, he climbs onto Off and rides him. It’s a slow fuck, even Gun too tired to put in all the work. But it’s nice, too.

After ten minutes of lying there, sweaty and sticky, they force themselves up and finally get ready. At least they don’t need to look too presentable today—even as much as they normally might before makeup and wardrobe—since they’ll spend the majority of the time in the practice rooms. Taking a look at the damage they’ve done to each other, they hope it’s not too obvious what they’ve been up to. Off still worries for Gun. If even _he’s_ sore, he can’t imagine how Gun is feeling.

Luckily Gun doesn’t need anything since what’s Off’s has been Gun’s for a long time.

They’re about to head out the door when Gun pauses as he puts on his shoes.

“I have to go home later,” Gun says, pretending to be nonchalant. It probably doesn’t seem that way with how he keeps looking at Off expectantly.

It’s usually hard for them to say goodbye, for the anticipation of it, even though they normally like having their own space, too. Gun realizes the last time he slept at home, he’d been up all night thinking about their kiss. That kiss…

An uncomfortable feeling settles in his stomach as he wonders if that’s why he had gone into heat. It’s such a stupid reason. They’d kissed before, but mostly for work. There had been something different then, like they were drawn together… And… 

And Gun _really_ just needs to stop thinking about it. He tries to fix his hair and then Off fixes it for him.

They arrive at work together, which isn’t unusual, but Gun is feeling paranoid the whole time. Although he’s usually the more provocative, the more vocal, the more tactile one, and Off has only been that way with him for a shorter amount of time, he’s the one blushing and ducking his head as they walk in while Off walks more confidently. Gun can’t be blamed too harshly, however, when he winces as they start up the stairs. He’s trailing behind but it only takes a few steps before Off is turning, wondering where he is.

Off extends a hand out to help him but Gun shakes his head, self-conscious. People definitely see them, the calls of “P’Gun” and “P’Off” hard to ignore. Off, sighing internally at Gun’s refusal, turns his smile to the waiting babiis, chatting idly. Gun is offering polite smiles, but his discomfort is obvious so most only tell him their well wishes and don’t force him too much. A lot of “su su” and “get better soon, P’Gun,” which he hopes he’s taking gracefully but his smile becomes more and more of a grimace as he ascends the staircase.

Eventually, it seems Off can’t stand to watch him suffer alone anymore, jogging down the steps to help him walk.

The scream that accompanies the action isn’t _too_ loud, thankfully.

Off gives a gracious wave with one hand before both are on Gun, easing him up each step. Whether it’s just the intimidating look of fierce P’Off or that alpha aura he’s emanating, everyone gives them space. The fans are dying as they watch anyway, souls leaving their bodies.

Rehearsal is equally if not more painful, but at least there’s more privacy.

More privacy and closer friends and coworkers who are definitely gossiping about them if not making remarks directly. It’s pretty much like normal, but _more_ , until everyone has gotten a comment out. It doesn’t take too long before most have calmed down.

Jennie isn’t involved, but she stops by _just_ for the satisfaction of seeing Off and Gun together, lowering her voice, although not as much as she should, to say, “Godji told me you went into _heat_. What was that like? Was it like all the Y novels?” Jennie fans herself at the thought and Gun blushes hard, but he’s not as embarrassed talking to Jennie about it as he is anyone else nearby. There aren’t many other omegas he spends a lot of time with at work and none are participating in the fanmeet they’re practicing for. Jennie may be a beta but with all the alpha/omega Y novels she’s read, she’s sensitive in her insensitivity to the subject.

Gun only gets through half of practice, despite how hard he tries, before he’s just sitting on the side watching and sipping a bottle of water.

Off stumbles through as much as he can.

New sidles up to Gun once he gets the chance. He’s about to scoot Gun onto his lap but at first touch, Gun winces, and he starts assessing him instead.

“Are you okay? Did you and Off really sleep together?” New asks, far too blunt.

Gun leans on New’s shoulder, into his chest once New puts his arm around Gun so Gun can settle in for a more comfortable cuddle. It’s a nice position for Gun because he doesn’t have to look New in the eye as he responds. New bounces him a little, until Gun makes a little whimper of pain. New forces himself to stop, frowning at Gun’s discomfort.

“Hm?”

Gun sighs. “Uh.”

“‘Uh’?” New repeats. He almost bounces Gun again but thinks better of it. “Gun and his Papii are actually together?”

Face hot and certainly red, too, Gun nods.

“O _hooo_.” New shifts their position so he can look at Gun’s face. He looks a little grossed out but happy, too. “You slept with P’Off. How was that?”

Gun swallows, clears his throat. He does his best to sound normal. “Good.” He nods, quick, small movements, like a little kid. After a second, a giggle breaks out and he’s patting New excitedly.

“‘Good’?” New tickles Gun and Gun squirms, wincing but laughing.

Gun nods some more even as he tries to wriggle away from New’s hands, but New enjoys playing around with Gun and it’s easy to forget Gun is in pain until he cries out.

Off is at his side in an instant. He isn’t looking at New accusingly, his gaze focused on Gun. “Are you okay?”

Catching his breath and settling back onto the bench, Gun shakes his head. “I’m fine, Papii. P’New and I were just playing around.”

Off nods in understanding, but he’s still looking at Gun, making sure he’s really, _actually_ fine. “Okay, okay,” Off allows. He lets out a breath he’d been holding since he heard Gun cry out.

Tay saunters over a moment later. “If Nong Gun is in pain, isn’t that your fault, Peng?”

“Shut it, Ai’Tay,” Off tosses back, but mostly ignores him as Gun stands up, starts clinging to him. This is normal, at least. It feels odd now, like it’s telling everyone around them everything they are and everything they’ve done, but it would be weirder if they weren’t clingy after all this time. People are used to them being like this, which is maybe its own sign of how inevitable this really was, how real it already was.

P’Kwang appears to tell them to calm it down...all the while snapping cute photos. Even Godji finds it in her busy schedule to come check on them.

Although most of their friends are just teasing, P’Kwang and Godji hold a hint of concern.

“If you make my son cry, I don’t care if you’re an alpha or an ant, I’ll crush you,” Godji warns. She clears her throat, takes on a more serious tone. “If you’re not sure, don’t say anything.”

Off and Gun both nod along before Off pauses, asking the question even though he doesn’t know what he should do no matter how she responds. “What if I’m sure?”

Godji squeals, turns around to right herself and likely mouthing her thoughts to the people around them. She very dramatically pretends to calm herself and faces them once more. “Uiii. Jumpol, you can’t say those things.”

Off pushes it. “What if I mean it?”

Godji clutches her chest. “I can’t with you.” She shoots a glare at Off and lets out a huff.

Essentially, he’s being told it’s up to him how much he’d like to disclose. As long as it’s with Gun, it’s good for the company. It could ultimately be harmful, but after four years, it’s not such a big deal. It’ll seem like it’s for show no matter what he says. He and Gun could show up with rings—better yet, with a _kid_ —and it could still be explained away as something a shipping couple might do.

And they’re still a shipping couple. It’s not like they plan to stop any other aspect of their work now that they’ve taken that real step over the line into togetherness. It just depends how much of that they want to share.

All things considered, their very open secret could’ve gone much, much worse. GMM could’ve—and, really, _still_ could—tell them they’ve gone too far and that they need to keep some things hidden from the fans. But, as they are, OffGun are well-known and well-loved enough and already so very, very close, that unless they’re cutting all ties, any signs of the intimacy between them can only be seen in a positive light.

They don’t have to decide anything yet.

After a long day, they go out as a big group, but it’s obvious Off and Gun are more tired than the rest, Gun leaning his head on Off’s shoulder as they sit around the restaurant chatting. Gun can sleep anywhere and Off can feel the way Gun leans harder, his weight going lax. Krist is the one who smiles knowingly at the sight.

“You’ve gone soft, phi,” he says, reaching across the table to nudge Off’s arm.

“Mm,” Off agrees. He bites his lip. As much as he doesn’t _want_ to disturb Gun, he probably should wake him up. He taps Gun’s leg a few times and Gun lifts his head, looks around, then up at Off. “You wanna go?”

Gun sits up, a little more of his own slump even if he’s got his arm twined through Off’s. He shakes his head.

“Are you going home after this?” Krist asks, but his question is aimed at Gun rather than Off, trying to engage him in conversation, even if there’s a hint of amusement there.

Singto elbows Krist and, under his breath, mutters, “Don’t be nosy.”

“I’m not, phi,” he replies. “I’m just trying to be friendly.”

Singto shoots him a look and Krist radiates mischief even if it’s not actually his intent. “ _Right_.”

Gun nods, rubs at his eyes. The exhaustion is hitting him hard today, everything had taken so much out of him and he keeps being confused as to where all his energy has gone before he remembers he went into heat. It’s all so surreal. He made out with Off, went into heat, and now, after years of waiting on his end, they’re actually together. He’d be grateful for the push his biology gave them if not for the horrible stereotypes about omegas using heats to manipulate otherwise unattainable or uninterested alphas into their beds and into their lives.

At his vague answer, Off clarifies, “Yes. I’m taking him home after this.”

“Oho, P’Off!” Krist intones.

“He said he’s taking him home, Kit. Calm down,” Singto says, but as soon as he’s done scolding Krist, he looks to P’Off and P’Gun. “We already know P’Off and P’Gun had to miss a few days for P’Gun’s...health.”

“Oy!” Off warns.

Singto smiles sweetly and Krist, happy that Singto is on his side, does the same.

New just says, “Look out for yourself, Gun.”

“Krab, P’New,” Gun replies, expression not at all as polite as his words.

New narrows his eyes and Gun narrows his eyes and then the two just grin at each other.

Off and Gun aren’t the first two to leave but they’re not the last either. Off watches as Gun climbs into the car somewhat gingerly and feels guilty. He wonders if he had given in too much to the alpha in him, taken too many liberties, but it’s the alpha, too, that wants to do whatever he can to protect the one he cares for.

“Don’t think too much, ’pii,” Gun tells him, sensing his thoughts.

“Mn.” It doesn’t stop the thoughts, but there is something contented about the way Gun starts to doze again in the car.

When they get to Gun’s, they spend some time with Pim and Gun’s grandmother, who both seem to know a little of what happened. Gun thanks his grandma as she reminds him to take care of himself, but the second she’s away, Pim says, “P’Gun and P’Off are together now, right?” She looks at them knowingly.

Gun blanks, even though it’s the most innocent thing about his whole disappearance. “Errr.”

Off has his hands folded over his crossed legs as they sit around. He just gives a nod, a short, “Krab.”

“Uiii,” Pim squeals. “P’Gun has been pining for so long. It’s honestly been painful to watch. I was starting to think you’d break his heart all over again.”

“Pim,” Gun warns.

“It’s okay, Gun,” Off tells him. “She’s right. She’s just worried about you.”

“I can worry about myself.”

“I know,” Off says. “But it doesn’t stop the people who love you from worrying, too.”

“Listen to P’Off,” Pim agrees, but, after a second, she narrows her eyes. “But, P’Off, if you hurt P’Gun again, I’ll make sure you suffer for it.”

Off presses his hands together and bows towards Pim. “Of course,” he agrees.

“Papii…” Gun shakes his head, but the blush makes it obvious that he’s flattered as well as embarrassed.

They hang out with Pim for a little while longer and Gun tries to warn her to be careful when she goes out with her friends, but she points out that he’s been practically MIA for _days_ and even if it couldn’t be helped, it had still put her in a more responsible position.

There’s a pull between Off and Gun, the draw of finally being together, maybe that alpha-omega bonding that Tay had been talking about, but the two are even clingier than usual. Which seems almost impossible, but Gun is sitting on Off’s lap even when they’re at the table, and when they shower and make it into Gun’s bedroom, they’re wrapped around each other like something might pry them apart.

They watch TV for a bit, fool around, doze a bit. Gun wakes up to about a million messages from his friends, having seen various reports and Instagram stories of him from the day before.

“ _I wanted to respect your time with your new boyfriend_ ,” Oile tells him when she finally calls.

“Yeah...I…” Gun hesitates, but it’s Oile. “I went into heat.”

“ _More than that_ ,” Oile says, “ _I notice you didn’t deny he’s your boyfriend_.”

“I just told you I went into heat and I’ve been with Papii the whole time,” Gun says in one quick, annoyed breath.

“ _Just because you spent your heat with an alpha doesn’t necessarily mean he’s your man… I mean, you’ve wanted him to be your man for a long time even though you liked to tell me he was your friend_.”

“Je’Oile,” Gun whines. “I wouldn’t do _that_ with just anyone.”

“ _It’s nothing to be ashamed of_ ,” she continues. “ _It’s hard to get through a heat alone and going into heat around an alpha… Everything was… **okay** , right? He didn’t make you do anything?_”

Gun shakes his head even though Oile can’t see him. “Papii didn’t do anything wrong. He even said we shouldn’t.”

“ _Nong Gun...did you make **him** do anything?_”

Gun wheezes into the phone. “No, no. Everything was very…” He swallows. “We both chose to do everything that we did.”

He can practically hear her smile. “ _And did you do **everything**?_”

“Papii is asleep next to me,” Gun warns.

“ _So you can’t tell me the details?_ ” she asks.

“Not now.”

They finish the conversation after another minute and Off grunts, wraps his arm tighter around Gun. “Are you embarrassed of me?”

Gun rolls his eyes, knows Off is just playing around. “I’m embarrassed that everyone knows what we did.”

Off hums. “Wanna do it again?”

Gun hesitates for a second, turns to get a better look at Off in his bed, at the raised eyebrow, and there’s that magnetism again. He straddles Off and it only takes a moment before they’re both hard, rubbing against each other through the thin fabric of their sleep shorts.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Off’s gaze is heavy, intense.

Gun bites his lip, shifting, creating friction. “What does Papii want?”

Off smirks. “Kiss me.”

Gun smirks back, and, happy to oblige, leans down to capture Off’s lips with his own, to devour. He kisses Off like he wants to suck the life out of him, like he’s some sort of magical elixir, addictive and powerful and fulfilling his every wish so long as he keeps kissing him. He has to break, however, to breathe, and Off shifts his weight, puts a hand to Gun’s hip to give them better leverage as they rut against each other.

Off’s mouth moves to Gun’s neck and Gun lets out a huff that turns into a moan. Gun reaches between them, fumbles until he can get them both out, awkward and needy as he does his best to take them both in hand. Off’s hand slides from Gun’s hip to join Gun’s.

Gun makes a desperate little noise and Off bites into his neck, much as Gun had done to him days before.

Suddenly, Gun pushes at Off’s chest and it takes Off a second to process, caught up in the feeling of their cocks against each other, hands working. He stops, looking up at Gun, dazed. “What? Something wrong?”

Gun just pants for a few seconds. “Gun wants Papii inside,” he murmurs.

Fuck. Their hands may have stilled, but Gun telling him to stop jerking him off because he wants to get fucked? Off’s mind blanks for a second. Then, he sucks in a breath. “You sure? You spent all day sore and tired. We have work tomorrow.”

Skin flushed, Gun nods. He barely lifts his hips enough to pull his shorts down to his thighs and positions himself over Off. The one benefit of being an omega? No prep needed as long as he’s turned on. He hates how often he’s typecast as a bottom, but he can’t deny how much he’s been loving getting fucked. He sinks down and Off groans, grips Gun’s hips.

“Ai’Gun, shouldn’t we get into a better—” His words are lost as he looks up at Gun, Gun’s hands are on his chest, lips parted as he adjusts to the feel of Off inside him.

When he realizes how immobile the position, the clothes, keep him, he lets out a whine of dissatisfaction.

Off chuckles. “I told you.” They’re forced to separate long enough to kick off their clothes and Off rolls Gun onto his back. Automatically, Gun’s legs part to accommodate him, lifting and hooking over Off’s. Off’s hand wanders down to Gun’s cock and strokes him again but at Gun’s pout, he can’t help smiling. “You want it that bad, huh?”

“Papii, don’t tease me,” Gun tells him.

“Okay, okay.” Off presses back into him and Gun hums happily. 

Off takes a moment to just to look at Gun. “You’re so gorgeous, baby.”

Gun nods. “I know. Now fuck me already.”

Off laughs again, but he does as Gun says, threads an arm under one of Gun’s knees and remembers how flexible Gun is.

Gun pushes back against him, using Off’s hold to find new leverage, and then he’s wrapping his arms around Off’s neck, kissing him, pressing their foreheads together instead when neither can keep up with kissing anymore. Breathing harsh, they find a rhythm that works, and Off’s arm releases Gun’s leg, his hand between them again as Gun is the one offering up his throat for the taking once more.

After licking, sucking, biting his way over Gun’s throat and collarbone, Off rests his head in the crux of Gun’s neck and shoulder. Abandoning hope of keeping his hand working, Off snakes both arms under Gun’s back, holding him close, so close that it’s skin and sex and heartbeats and heat in indistinguishable distinction.

Even without the added layer, he can tell how close Gun is, how close he himself is. Their breaths come in loud, stuttering staccato and then Gun seems to cease drawing breath at all, legs locked around Off’s waist.

“Gun,” Off manages to whisper. “Gun, Ai’Gun.”

And they’re over the edge. Gun is squeezing him tight, holding on for dear life, and it feels like time stops, like they’re in their own little universe where nothing matters but them, the feelings of being together.

Eventually, gradually, they drop back into the real world.

“Mm, Papii, I can’t breathe,” Gun whines.

“Sorry.” Off starts to pull away, but Gun’s arms and legs keep him trapped. “Gun, baby, let go.”

Gun’s pout is even worse than before they’d had sex. He shakes his head.

One hand to the mattress, Off gives Gun a look. “Didn’t you just tell me you couldn’t breathe?”

“Mm.” A nod. But the cage of Gun’s limbs clutches him closer.

“I can’t get up if you don’t let go.”

Another shake of his head. Nods of yes and shakes of no seem to be his preferred method of communication at the moment.

At Gun’s conflicting messages, Off just lets his weight fall on Gun dramatically but carefully. “So we just stay like this?”

Another nod and Off laughs.

“Whatever you want, baby.”

Gun peppers soft kisses over Off’s cheek and neck, like he’s always done, but now he’s allowed to be possessive.

“Gun, you keep this up and the alpha in me wants to do all sorts of terrible things to you,” he teases.

Gun giggles. “Papii, I’m never going to let go if you say that.”

“Ai’Gun,” Off scolds, but it’s still in good fun.

“As long as Papii is mine, he can do whatever he wants,” Gun says. And maybe he said it before. He hasn’t said it enough. He wants to shout it from the rooftops, just how much, in this moment, he feels everything that’s been accumulating all over again. The omega in him is so stupidly happy, really does mean it. For all that he seems it, giving in to that base omega desire has never been his thing. He gives a lot of himself, but only with Off is he willing and eager to give his all.

Off curses Tay.

He doesn’t know if this is just that fresh rush of requited love or biological instinct, but he blames Tay for putting the idea in his head anyway, that they _need_ this extra bonding time.

As if they don’t have “bonding time” almost every single day.

But...they don’t actually stop and even after a day of having trouble even working, and going so far as to nap in the restaurant, Gun doesn’t let Off sleep until it’s nearing two in the morning.

At five, Off wakes up in a panic realizing he’d been so attuned to Gun that he’d forgotten to check his schedule for that day. It only takes a quick search in his email and calendar to see that they’re doing initial scenes for his new series. P’Yui has sent him a reminder that he needs to be on his way by seven and Off swears and tells her he’ll be ready when she comes to pick him up, that he’s at Gun’s place.

Although he doesn’t sleep _quite_ as easily as Gun, he knows he’s going to be sleeping on set.

Gun wakes up, probably sensing Off’s stress, and they’re about to get into some stress relief when Pim opens the door at a quarter past six.

“P’Gun, can I borrow—” She stops, then smiles. “I forgot _Papii_ was here.”

Gun rubs at his face, hoping his sister doesn’t know what he’d been thinking. “What do you need, Pim?”

He ends up rolling out of bed to help her find a shirt she wants to borrow and Off sighs, knowing he should’ve already been up and getting ready. He excuses himself to shower and get dressed and lets Gun go back to sleep.

They have separate schedules today, which...doesn’t feel good. It never feels good, but it feels especially awful when they’ve been wrapped up in each other for the past few days, when his instincts are now _screaming_ that he can’t leave his lover, his _omega_ , unattended. He’d always hated alpha biology and the fact that it’s what finally got him Gun is ludicrous. He’s leaving Gun safe and sound in his own bedroom and, as he kisses Gun’s forehead, Gun grunts his agreement that they can meet up that night.

Off suspects that “meet up” means “go out,” but he hopes for the best.

He doesn’t have to travel much for the shoot today, and he’ll review lines on the drive and on set. It’s only after P’Yui has him and he’s arriving that he fully processes what he’s shooting.

It’s not like he and Gun haven’t played in other couples while they’ve known each other, but...given the past few days, his alpha is somewhat repulsed by the idea that he’s supposed to get romantic with someone else. He’s a professional. It’s just work.

But it had also started as just work with Gun and now they are...what they are.

It’s so fresh and leaving Gun had been so hard. The make up artist working on him clears his throat meaningfully as he applies extra foundation to Off’s neck and Off is forced to apologize, even if he _is_ slightly pleased at the evidence.

Really, it shouldn’t be too bad. At least he’s working with Mek and Mild. And Singto.

They’d seen each other the day before but it had completely slipped Off’s mind to mention it then. Singto hadn’t mentioned it either, but as Off sees him on set, he wonders how much Singto actually knows about him and Gun. They all know to take rumors with a grain of salt and he and Gun have been too close for anyone to tell whether they’re actually together or not. Singto might understand, at least as an alpha, that Off needs a minute.

Mild, however, finds him first, thanking him for the food support.

Mild, who will be his love interest in this series.

Mild, who is also an omega.

Part of his brain sends out warning signals, but he knows Mild isn’t here to make things awkward. They should be relaxed around each other and they usually are. His stupid instincts just need to calm down.

Mild makes respectable chitchat for a few minutes while they wait around set, but when Off seems somewhat strange, she laughs. “I heard about you and P’Gun.” She punches him on the arm. “You guys are sooo cute,” she gushes.

The tension eases, and Off lets himself talk about Gun. He doesn’t like to share too much of his private life, but Mild is very supportive as he tells her just that Gun is doing much better than he was and that he’ll see Gun later.

She shoots a clip of them getting ready to film and one of all the food and Off smiles and tries to ignore the fear that somehow Gun will get upset. There’s no reason for Gun to get upset. There’s no reason for _him_ to feel uncomfortable.

He repeats it until he convinces himself it’s true.

They’re halfway through the day when he goes to check his phone and his stomach drops. The urge to leave _immediately_ is, once again, due to his currently heightened alpha instincts. It’s not that he didn’t know Gun had work today, it’s just that he hadn’t thought Gun would be seeing _Oab_.

Gun is just touchy. He knows that. And Gun and Oab are close when they’re together. He knows that.

The problem is that even years ago, even when he didn’t think he and Gun were ever going to be a thing, he’d been jealous of Gun and Oab. Whether it’s from the viewpoint of outsiders, shipping Oab and Gun, or the fact that Gun liked Oab...or the fact that Off knew Gun had chosen him over Oab even before he’d opened up to Gun...even when maybe Gun _should’ve_ chosen Oab…

He needs to stop thinking like that. This petty jealousy now made so much worse.

Off steadies himself. He finishes shooting before Gun does today and he can surprise him. And it isn’t at all because he wants to check up on them.

Gun had chosen him.

He’d woken up in Gun’s bed this morning. With Gun. Very, very much _with_ Gun.

He just needs to breathe, drink some water, get ready for the next scene. He sends a message to Gun anyway, telling him to keep going but not to push himself too hard.

Off is shaken out of his thoughts by a hand to his shoulder. It’s Singto.

“P’Off, are you ready for the next scene?”

Off forces a smile and hopes it looks natural. Acting is his job, after all. “Are you sure you can handle it?”

Singto doesn’t get what he means until after the scene, having endured Off’s screaming for multiple takes.

It puts Off in a slightly better mood, despite the lingering ache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to have this up last Friday but I wrote and posted that other OffGun fic instead. Oops. Anyway, it looks like this might be five parts? >.>
> 
> Comments keep me going. 💚


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